


Of Springtime and Dandelions

by allergic_to_almond_milk



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, Based On A Short Story, Dandelions, F/M, How Do I Tag, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Manhattan, One Shot, Pining, There's no Trollhunter, fluff?, takes place in the late 1800s, typewriters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 06:46:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16113038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allergic_to_almond_milk/pseuds/allergic_to_almond_milk
Summary: As Barbara's nimble fingers danced across the typewriter keys, the blue-eyed woman noticed there were more changes on the menu than usual. The soups were lighter, and pork was eliminated from the entrees, among other things. The whole menu was radiating the soft spirit of spring.Just above the desserts came the list of vegetables. Carrots and peas, asparagus, tomatoes and corn and succotash, lima beans, cabbage--Barbara stopped. She stared at the next item on the list.Then all of a sudden she was crying.Tears trickled down her face and she didn't bother to wipe them away as they fell on the menu, blotting the ink. Her head went down on the typewriter, the keys rattling to every soft sob she let out.She was crying over a menu. A menu!But what she was upset about had a special meaning to her. The item on the menu was dandelion and hard-boiled egg. But forget the egg! It was the dandelions. Dandelions that her Walter would lovingly weave together and place on her head, his green eyes twinkling. Dandelions that he had given her on the night he proposed.Those yellow flowers, a symbol of spring, were reminders of Barbara's happiest days, and she felt miserable.





	Of Springtime and Dandelions

**Author's Note:**

> Please accept my first offering to the Trollhunters fandom... ^__^" 
> 
> Just a reminder that this story takes place in late 1800s Manhattan.

* * *

Manhattan was a big city.

For the average man it was hard to make a living there, even more so for a young woman.

But Barbara Lake could manage.

A free-lance typewriter, she earned money from doing odd jobs of copying. Most of these jobs were short-lived, much to her disappointment.

Then a phone call here, and an interview there, and suddenly she had struck a deal with Blinkous Galadrigal's Home Restaurant.

Barbara was to supply menus for the twenty-one tables in the restaurant via her typewriter, and in return, Blinkous would allow her to stay in the boarding rooms next door. He would also send a waiter with food to her, three times a day. Mutual satisfaction resulted from this agreement.

It was on a lovely day in March that Barbara sat herself in front of her typewriter. She slipped a card between the rollers and began her work.

As her nimble fingers danced across the keys, the blue-eyed woman noticed there were more changes on the bill of fare than usual. The soups were lighter, and pork was eliminated from the entrees, among other things. The whole menu was radiating the soft spirit of spring.

Just above the desserts came the list of vegetables. Carrots and peas, asparagus, tomatoes and corn and succotash, lima beans, cabbage--

Barbara stopped. She stared at the next item on the list.

Then all of a sudden she was crying.

Tears trickled down her face and she didn't bother to wipe them away as they fell on the menu, blotting the ink. Her head went down on the typewriter, the keys rattling to every soft sob she let out.

She was crying over a menu. _A menu!_

But what she was upset about had a special meaning to her. The item on the menu was dandelion and hard-boiled egg. But forget the egg! It was the dandelions. Dandelions that her Walter would lovingly weave together and place on her head, his green eyes twinkling. Dandelions that he had given her on the night he proposed.

Those yellow flowers, a symbol of spring, were reminders of Barbara's happiest days, and she felt miserable.

She had not heard from Walter in a long time, not since she moved from her apartment. 

Barbara shook the thoughts from her head and choked back her tears. The menus still needed to be typed. Absently, she pushed at the keys, her mind still in the meadow with Walter. The sounds from the big city jarred her back into the cruel present, and soon the room was filled with the sounds of the typewriter clattering away.

At six, the waiter brought her dinner and carried away the menus. Barbara ate the food, but pushed away the dandelions to the side of the plate, with a sigh.

Seven-thirty came swiftly. The couple in the room next to her began to bicker, a radio on her other side began to play, and next door she could hear the sounds of Blinkous Galadrigal's Home Restaurant coming to life. Barbara picked up a book she was currently reading, a story of ancient gods and mythical creatures, a gift from Walter.

Two hours went by. Barbara was lost in a world of the past. The front door bell rang; she paid no attention to it. She heard the click-clack of the landlady's heels coming to answer it. Whoever came was now talking with the landlady, a masculine voice, with just the slightest hint of a British accent--

Barbara tossed her book aside and was out the door in seconds. She flew down the stairs just as Walter came up, and the blue-eyed woman crashed into his arms.

She yanked the lapels of his tweed jacket and pressed her lips to his in a searing kiss.

When they pulled apart, Walter looked down at his fianceè with a mixture of surprise and delight. 

"Oh, Walt! Why haven't you written?" cried Barbara, her arms around the teacher's waist, for fear he might disappear if she let go.

The green-eyed man smiled and tucked a fiery strand behind her ear.

"Manhattan is a large city, my dear," Walter Strickler said. "I came a week ago to your old address, only to find that you weren't there anymore. But that didn't prevent me from hunting for you ever since!"

Barbara gave him a confused look. "But I wrote to you!"

"Well then, I probably never got it," chuckled Walter.

"Then how did you find me?"

The history teacher gave her an amused smile.

"I decided to drop by that restaurant next door," he explained. "When springtime comes, I never miss an opportunity to have a dish of some kind of greens at this time of year. I was looking over that lovely typewritten menu when I got below the cabbage. I just about tore the restaurant apart looking for the owner to ask where you were staying."

"I remember," Barbara let out a bright peal of laughter. "That was dandelions below the cabbage."

"And I'd know that cranky capital W that your typewriter makes anywhere."

"W? There's no W in dandelions," Barbara said, surprised.

Walter fished out the bill of fare from his jacket pocket and pointed to a line.

Barbara recognized it as the first card that she had typewritten that afternoon. On the corner of the paper there was still the smeared ink that her tears had caused. But below the cabbage, where the word dandelions was supposed to be, her daydreaming had caused her fingers to strike strange keys, making the item read something else:

"DEAREST WALTER, WITH HARD-BOILED EGG."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot to put this when I first published the story, but this is very strongly based on a wonderful short story by O. Henry called "Springtime à la Carte."  
> When I read that one of the characters was named Walter, I was inspired to make a Trollhunters version of it.  
> I recommend to read the original story! You can find it online if you search the title and author!


End file.
